


more than this

by sorrymom



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: F/F, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-19 14:32:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22445833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrymom/pseuds/sorrymom
Summary: Sana and Nayeon just finished the biggest con of their careers.Nayeon knows what she wants to do next. Sana doesn't.this is not like. smut btw so
Relationships: Im Nayeon/Minatozaki Sana
Comments: 3
Kudos: 195





	more than this

The yacht rocks lazily over the indigo sheets of the ocean. A yellow sun fades over the coast, leaving strains of pink and purple to stain the sky. 

Everything seems to be telling Sana it’s time to go down to her cabin, to lay down and reward herself with the first honest night’s sleep she’s had in months. But she isn’t ready for that just yet. For it to be over. 

Maybe, if she can stand vigil here, the night might last forever. If she can attend to it, keep it dark with her mind, the sun won’t rise again. Jihyo won’t take the yacht in to dock. Nayeon won’t leave. 

When she fishes the olive out of her half-empty martini, she smiles around the bitter taste. Because there are footsteps. Because Nayeon is coming up the stairs to the top deck. 

The other woman looks a little worse for wear. Her cheeks and neck are bright with sunburn, a damp towel wrapped around her shoulders as the temperature drops and her flashy bikini becomes more and more impractical. It had been a long day, the three of them drinking on the deck and listening to Jihyo’s endless samba playlists as the sun made it’s pre-programmed arc. 

“Thought you’d be in bed,” Nayeon mutters, fingers trembling as she reaches to take the cocktail glass Sana offers. She doesn’t like to drink, but Nayeon does. It’s one of those little asymmetries that always worked for them. 

“Wanted to think.” 

It’s always clipped sentences like this. That’s one of the consequences in their line of work — impatience, a need to get to the point, a hatred of accessory. Not yachts though. Yachts are nice, especially when Jihyo pays for them. 

Nayeon finishes the martini in one gulp. “About what you’re going to do with the money.” 

Sana just hums. It isn’t a question, and even if it was she doesn’t have an answer yet. There’s a duffel bag in her cabin stuffed with about 20 million. She hasn’t counted through, but she’s had enough deposits like this before to know the exact weight of that much cash. 

“It’s too much of a risk,” Jihyo had said, half-apologetic, when she explained that this was it. The last job. The last duffel bag. The best thing was for their trio to go their separate ways. “Start a new life,” Jihyo had said with a big smile, like this was a good, hopeful thing. “Do what you always wanted to before you got sucked into this shit.”

That was the problem. This was it, for Sana. This was all there ever could have been. 

“Do you know what you’ll do?” 

Sana asks because it’s polite. She doesn’t really want to know. 

Details about Nayeon usually make it harder to unlove her. 

“I’m thinking Hawaii.” Nayeon tugs the wet towel tighter around her shoulders. “You know, get one of those brutalist beach houses. Maybe meet someone, have a family.” 

Sana snorts. “You’re going to settle down?” 

Nayeon’s hands are made for 9MMs. 

Nayeon’s head is made for decoding casino blueprints. 

“I’ve always wanted kids. You knew that.” 

Maybe Sana did know. 

Maybe she forgot on purpose, because that made it easier to pretend the nights she and Nayeon spent bored and maybe a little pissed off in their hotel rooms, waiting for Jihyo’s next order, the nights they’d shrug and then kiss until they couldn’t breathe— that those nights might sprawl out infinitely. 

All Sana wanted was to flush a SIM card down a golden toilet while Nayeon crouched over the adjacent bathtub, staining her hair with a store-bought dye. All Sana wanted was that for the rest of her life. 

It was all just a useless detail now. 

“What about you?” Nayeon jaw clatters as she shivers again. It’s unnatural for Sana not to offer the fisherman sweater that lays heavy on her shoulders, but not tonight. Tonight, she wants Nayeon to feel bad too. She wants someone else to grieve with her. 

“Ask Jihyo if she knows anybody. Even if it’s not for much, I wouldn’t really mind—”

“You have twenty million dollars,” Nayeon sours. “And you’re just going to keep running cons?” 

Sana is instantly small. “I’m good at it.” 

“You’re rich. You don’t have to be good at anything anymore.” 

It’s childish, but Sana’s eyes sting with tears anyway. She bites her tongue, refocusing on the physical pain rather than the amorphous wound warping in her chest. 

“You should get some sleep.” It doesn’t matter that Nayeon says it gently, that her hand passes over Sana’s knuckles like an apology. 

If Nayeon can’t say it out loud, it’s not worth anything. 

Sana stands under the showerhead until the hot water thins away. 

She towels off quickly in the steam, drying her hair roughly, then slips on sweatpants and a tourist trap Parthenon t-shirt. It might be Nayeon’s. 

She can’t remember. 

There’s a bottle of aloe vera next to the faucet. 

Sana sighs. She had really wanted to be the cruel one this time. 

Sana doesn’t bother knocking on Nayeon’s cabin door. She’s earned that, at least. 

Nayeon is unsurprised, unashamed, laying shirtless on her stomach in the mess of a duvet. Her phone is in front of her face, making her glasses glow blue. 

Sana holds up the aloe when the other woman’s eyes flick up. “Thought you’d need this.” 

She takes her position, straddling Nayeon’s lower back, spreading the gel over her palms. She’s stitched Nayeon up before with nothing but a sewing needle and a bottle of vodka. She’s pulled a bullet out of her thigh with tweezers. 

Nayeon squirms under the light touches across her scarlet shoulders. 

Any other night and Sana might dip forward and leave a kiss somewhere along her spine. Any other night she wouldn’t care and lay her body out flush against Nayeon’s, and touch her until their skin was melded together. 

“I wanted to say sorry,” Nayeon mutters into her arm, where she’s hidden her face. “For earlier. Let’s try it again.” 

This was a game they’d play in the hotel, during the long car rides, waiting for Jihyo’s next payphone call. It’s a game where they start a conversation again, at the beginning, but change what they say. Make the good version, see where it takes them. It’s not a great game. But it’s the one they have. 

“I thought you’d be in bed,” Nayeon starts. She turns over with a wince, her skin still tender, but smiles up at Sana. 

“Were you looking for me?” Sana tries. 

Her voice isn’t light enough, but Nayeon presses on. “Yes.” 

“Okay.” 

Nayeon laughs, poking at Sana’s stomach. When she doesn’t get a reaction, she sets her jaw, and goes again. “I thought you’d be in bed.” 

“I don’t want to do this right now, Nayeon.”

Sana means it as a surrender, but Nayeon reads it as a challenge. 

“I thought you’d be in bed.” 

Sana keeps her tone as flat as possible. Maybe then it’ll seem less true. “I can’t sleep without you.”

The other woman hooks two fingers in the collar of Sana’s t-shirt. She isn’t using any force. It’s the magnetism, the familiarity, that brings Sana down in an arc so their noses brush together. 

Nayeon whispers against her lips, “And then I would kiss you.” 

“And then you’d leave in the morning,” Sana parries. 

“I can only disappoint you.” Nayeon says this even as her fingers wind into Sana’s hair, even as she arches up to press their bodies against each other. It’s classic. Lower expectations, get what she wants, and then— 

Her skin tastes like saltwater. 

Sana kitten licks down Nayeon’s chest, her ribs, the slight swell of her stomach. 

She wants this, just once more. 

Sana keeps the pace of her fingers deep and slow. Nayeon is canting her hips, shuddering in pain every time her sunburned shoulders scrape against the sheets. When she begins to cry, Sana gathers herself up, pressing their foreheads together. 

At some point, Nayeon pushes her own hand beneath the waistband of Sana’s sweatpants. They rock carelessly into the friction, and then fall apart. 

“I thought you’d be in bed,” Nayeon pants, looking up at the blank ceiling. 

“I think if I stay awake, the sun might not come up.” 

That was another one of their games. They had to pull all-nighters frequently, and they’d always joke about if the sun really didn’t rise as they drove for hours on a country road, or stood on the balcony of their hotel room listening to the cicadas in the woods below. Sana wishes it had come true, for them to be locked in an endless night together. 

“No matter how I try to think about it,” Sana continues, reaching down to tug her pants back up, “you’re leaving me.” 

Nayeon props herself up on one elbow. “I never said you couldn’t come to Hawaii.” 

“You’re retiring.” 

Nayeon laughs. She always laughs when Sana gets serious. It’s one of those details. “You really want to do this for the rest of your life?” 

Sana looks at the woman beside her, still flushed with sunburn, still shirtless, wisps of hair stuck to her forehead with sweat. “Yes.” 

The yacht lulls over the the shaking sea. 

Sana lifts the duvet so she can burrow under. So she can hide before she says this. “Don’t wake me up when you leave.”

Nayeon gives her that much, at least. She wakes to an empty room and the sounds of Jihyo’s persistent playlist announcing that she’s up and making breakfast. 

Her boss is dancing in the on-deck kitchen, arranging a caprese salad off the edge of a paring knife. 

“Morning,” Jihyo beams, popping the cork off a bottle of prosecco with her teeth. “Mimosa?”

Sana doesn’t even need to nod to have a champagne flute pushed into her hand. 

“She left some stuff for you,” Jihyo says, pushing her sunglasses up. “I don’t know if you saw.”

Sana picks at the tomato slices peckishly. “When did she leave?”

“About twenty minutes ago.” Jihyo bites her lip. “I didn’t think I’d be so emotional, but I cried the whole time she was trying to fit all her crap on the skiff.” 

Twenty minutes. 

“What time is her flight?” 

“Dunno.” Jihyo takes another swig of her mimosa. “You gonna chase her?” 

“It’s not like that.” Sana shivers in the sunlight. “We said our goodbyes last night.” 

Her boss hums, which always means she’s about to disagree. Sana doesn’t understand how she’s expected to just abandon all these rhythms she’s learned so well. Just leave, take the money. Like it was ever about money at all. 

“Nayeon wants different things than I do,” Sana continues, wanting to build up armor against the inevitable argument. “We aren’t actually— we’d never work out.”

“So go con her.” Jihyo pulls out her phone to skip the next song. “Go to Hawaii and pretend to be everything she wants.” 

“That’s so mean—”

“And pretend she’s everything you want.”

“She is everything I—” 

Jihyo grins in triumph. 

Oh. 

“You two didn’t get to meet the way people are supposed to. But now you’ve got twenty million and a second chance. Just take it.” 

“This is why you’re the boss,” Sana smiles, pressing a kiss to Jihyo’s temple as the other woman tries to bat her away. 

Nayeon had left a couple of her t-shirts and a postcard with an address. 

On the plane, Sana finds that it’s a beach house. Clearly Nayeon had been planning her exit for some time. 

In the Inouye Airport, she buys a sundress and wide hat and gaudy sunglasses and cheap flip-flops. She takes a taxi past the flat of the beaches, up to where the mountains begin to rise and roll. 

She finds Nayeon’s ugly new house and rings the doorbell, checking her reflection in the window beside the front door. 

Nayeon opens it. Still sunburned. Jetlagged to hell. But a smile splits her face. 

“I’m here to trick you,” Sana starts, wanting to mirror every flicker of joy back. 

“I thought you’d still be in bed.”


End file.
